


Signs and Bards

by TheRealDanniX



Series: Learning to Live With Each Other [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Competent Jaskier | Dandelion, Deaf Character, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Not Beta Read, Original Character(s), Pre-Slash, but they don't know it yet, for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:08:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23635111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRealDanniX/pseuds/TheRealDanniX
Summary: So you know how Jaskier knows like 7 languages? Well, what if one is sign language and Geralt, being the himbo he is doesn't think there's much more to the bard beside music and romance. This is how he figures out there's something else going on behind those pretty eyes which he's definitely not thinking about.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Learning to Live With Each Other [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695268
Comments: 8
Kudos: 479





	Signs and Bards

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not 100% sure what this is, but I wrote it in a bit of a frenzy and though y'all might like it.
> 
> If you do, drop a comment and a kudos.
> 
> I love hearing from y'all, and it makes this quarantine so much better to know that there are people out there connecting with my stories.

The Bard had been following him on and off for eight years. He wasn’t sure why he allowed it, but, at this point, it was just the way things were. It seemed that no matter where he went after leaving Kaer Morhen in the Spring, the bard was always close behind him. Sometimes waiting for him. Sometimes a day or two away, but always there before he was on to the next contract. If he chose to head to towns near wherever the bard had spent the winter, that was purely a coincidence. Even when they separated over the years, the bard still managed to find him when he wanted to. Now, even Geralt found himself seeking the bard out sometimes. The times they were apart getting shorter and farther between.

Jaskier had found him just a few days ago, in a small town with no name worth mentioning. It had only been two weeks since they separated, but the bard was back. They were in between towns and he was babbling like he always did. It was comfortable and familiar. The Witcher briefly wondered when that had happened. At some point, the non-stop noise and music that came tumbling from the troubadour had become something he longed for when they parted. He ignored that thought and tried to focus on what the man was saying.

“I’m not trying to be rude, mind you. It’s wonderful when a court extends an invitation, but after three weeks at court, it all becomes too much. I’m sure you understand. After all, you always seem so uncomfortable in crowded places. I simply cannot stay still that long.” Jaskier continued talking, but Geralt’s focus was lost again. When had the bard learned to tell when he was uncomfortable? Warmth twisted in the Witcher’s gut. He ignored that too, turning his attention to their surroundings since that was a safe option. It was then that he realized how quiet it was. Apart from the talking, now singing, coming from the man beside him, the noise of the world was silenced. No birds. No wind. No animals. He pulled on Roach’s reigns, stopping her as he dismounted. Jaskier stopped beside him, closing his mouth, blue eyes scanning around them nervously.

“Stay with Roach,” Geralt ordered, handing him her reigns. Jaskier frowned but took the reigns anyways. “And stay quiet.”

“No promises,” Jaskier muttered. He leaned into Roach, stroking her as much as she let him. Geralt rolled his eyes and drew his silver sword, straying from the path, looking around carefully for the cause of the unnatural quiet permeating this place. There was a scream from further in the field and he saw two people standing in the field, the person screaming was running towards him, but the other was pulled into a circle of swaying grass. Noonwraith. The screaming, it turns out, was a little girl. She stumbled when she saw him, but her eyes flicked to the path where Jaskier was. Her hands were shaking, but she held them up and moved them around her face.

“Go to the horse,” Geralt said. The girl fixed her eyes on his face but didn’t react. Her hands were moving again. “Go to the horse,” he repeated. He pointed at where Jaskier and Roach were, feeling a surge of that warm feeling from earlier when he saw that Jaskier was actually where he left him. She looked from Geralt to his hands to the bard. It took her a moment, but finally, she seemed to understand. He watched her go, then turned to the specter now shimmering into view near the fallen body of the other person. It was a fairly simple fight. It was a fairly weak Noonwraith. He wasn’t able to help the man who had been with the little girl. When he rejoined his horse, Jaskier and the little girl were looking at each other and moving their hands around purposefully. Taking turns going back and forth like a game.

Jaskier noticed him first. He straightened up. “Ah, Geralt.” He smiled broadly. “This is Tamia. She was traveling with her father to visit her grandmother in the next town.” Then the bard looked back at Tamia. He moved his hands purposefully again. It almost looked like he was spelling something at one point. Geralt frowned.

“We’ll take her to her grandmother. The Noonwraith got her father,” Geralt said. He expected Jaskier to snap at him for the bluntness of it, like normal. The bard didn’t like the victims to hear the news like that, but the bard barely acknowledged it. The only hint he got that he had been heard were blue eyes flicking to his face. His hands were still moving. He moved his face sometimes, exaggerating his already expressive emotions. Tamia didn’t respond with her hands. Instead, she suddenly surged forward and wrapped herself around Jaskier. He scoped her up and pulled her closed. She rested her legs on his hips and her head in the crook of his neck. Her body shook with sobs. Jaskier held her close, but he didn’t sing or hum or talk like he had with others who sought him out in their grief. Instead, he looked up at Geralt.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly. He started walking down the path. The Witcher sheathed his sword and followed, guiding Roach along with him. As they traveled, the girl apparently calmed some. She made small noises and poked at Jaskier, running her fingers across his back in patterns. Tracing letters, he realized. Maybe she didn’t want to talk. He had seen that sometimes. Children not talking after losing someone. That didn’t explain why Jaskier wasn’t making noise back or trying to comfort her. Jaskier didn’t set her down until they reached the village. Then he knelt in front of her and started moving his hands around again. Tamia nodded and he smiled gently at her. When he stood up again, she took his hand and guided him through the streets. Geralt followed silently. When they reached a house on the other side of the village, the girl pulled away.

“Geralt, stay here. I’ll take care of it,” Jaskier said, turning back. Then he followed Tamia. Mostly out of confusion, the Witcher hung back, watching. To his surprise, they didn’t know on the door. They went to the window where Jaskier lifted the child again, resting her on his hip as he peered through the glass. His free hand waved to someone inside. A moment later the door opened, and an elderly woman came out. Tamia jumped from Jaskier’s grasp and ran to the woman, presumably, her grandmother. Just like with Jaskier, the two of them traded hand signs, not saying a word. Eventually, the woman looked up at the Bard, who smiled gently. Then his hands were moving again. Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. She nodded at Jaskier. Jaskier just pointed at Geralt, then moved his hands some more. It didn’t seem to satisfy the woman, as she pressed closer and forced something into his hands. Her hands moved again.

“Thank you,” the woman said. Her voice was odd, and her words carried a strange accent. Jaskier just nodded with that small smile. Then he put whatever he had been handed in his pocket and moved his hands again. Then the woman pulled him into a hug. Then Tamia hugged him. Finally, Jaskier waved once more and came back to Geralt. The Witcher frowned at him.

Jaskier plucked a small coin purse from his pocket and tossed it to Geralt. That must have been what the woman had handed him. “Well, dear Witcher, another innocent saved and delivered safely. We still have most of the day ahead of us. I take it we’ll be moving on, rather than seeking out a tavern or inn?” Jaskier walked past him, heading out of the village. “On second thought, we walked through most of the town and there was no sign of either. I guess that answers that question.” He pulled his lute off his back and practiced fingers started plucking out chords.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, following. Blue eyes glanced back at him.

“Hmm?” Jaskier smirked.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” The chords stopped. Jaskier had stopped moving and was looking at Geralt. He tilted his head, frowning.

“ _That,”_ he growled back, pointing toward Tamia and her grandmother’s house.

The bard’s eyes flicked from the Witcher to the house several times before something seemed to dawn on him. “Oh. Uh, Tamia and her grandmother are deaf.”

“How do you know?”

“Tamia told me.”

“How?”

“What do you mean ‘how’, Geralt?” Jaskier scowled. He turned back to the road, walking on. “We talked, that’s how.” He looked back down at his lute, placing his fingers carefully as he started to play again.

“Neither of you said a word.” Geralt was at his side quickly, glared at him.

“Obviously,” Jaskier snorted. “It wouldn’t have done much good, no would it? She couldn’t have heard me, and she hasn’t learned to read lips yet.”

“Then how were you communicating?” His voice was still a low growl.

“Sign language, Geralt,” the bard sighed. “Did you think we were waving our hands about for fun?” He scowled again and repeated the chord progression he’d just finished, changing a chord or two.

“How do you know sign language?”

“Just something I picked over the winter a few years back. I have a friend in Oxenfurt who lost their tongue and uses it, so I thought it would be nice to learn so that he wouldn’t need to use his spouse to talk with me. Now, my dear Witcher, I need to figure out these chords before I lose them.” He bit his lip, his own tongue sticking out as he repeated the chords. Geralt sighed, but let it go. Mounting Roach again, he watched the bard walk and compose as he usually did. That warm feeling was back, twisting in his stomach. The corners of his mouth twitched. Maybe there was more to his bard then he had thought. He decided that he would pay more attention to Jaskier in the future.

It had nothing to do with the warmth.

At least, that’s what he told himself. 


End file.
